CHAPTER XII

MAGICAL INVENTIONS

THE IMPORTANCE of the subject dealt with in this chapter can admit of no argument whatever. Both practically and theoretically, it is one of the most vital topics comprised in the whole range of magical studies. From a technical standpoint, it represents the goal toward which the aims of every honorable magician are directed, when seeking to add to his repertoire-and, incidentally, to his reputation.

Like all else in the world, magic cannot stand still. It must either advance with the times, or fall behind them. And, in this connection, the one quality which above all others is essential to progress is novelty. Without novelty in some form or other, nothing can be achieved in the way of progress. Every step forward is necessarily a new step. It breaks new ground, opens up new views, and involves a definite change of position. In short, it represents novelty in every sense of the word. In magic, as in all other forms of applied science, the terms novelty and invention are synonymous. Without invention there can be no novelty; and without novelty there can be no invention. In view of these facts, it is evident that any treatise upon magical technics, in which the subject of invention is not dealt with, must be incomplete and unsatisfactory.

In the present chapter, therefore, we shall discuss the nature of magical inventions, and the means by which such inventions may be evolved. Not, let it be understood, the means whereby all the inventions in magic have been and are to be made. There are constantly being produced, in every branch of human activity, inventions which even their own inventors could not trace to a definite origin. It is quite possible, however, to demonstrate certain means, available to those who seek real advancement, by the aid of which the work of invention may be greatly facilitated, and in some instances actually brought to completion. It is in this connection that the value of theoretical study is most prominently displayed.

There can be little doubt that, however interesting in itself the theory of magic may be, it will receive but scant attention from those who live by magic unless the study of this particular branch of the subject can be shown to have a monetary value. It is not in human nature to adopt any other attitude upon such a question. The man who has his living to gain is bound to give his chief attention to the making of profits. So, if there is no money to gain by the study of theory, most men will give theory the coldest of cold shoulders. But, as it happens, technical theory usually is worth money to those who understand it. In the case of magic, no less than in other callings of a professional character, the results to which theoretical knowledge may lead can be valued in shekels of gold and shekels of silver.

That novelties connected with magic are extremely valuable, must be patent to all. The avidity with which such novelties are sought on every hand, to say nothing of the importance attached to them by their inventors, would suffice to prove their value even if all other evidence were lacking. Hence, if it can be shown that the theory of magic constitutes a substantial aid to the production of novelties, its importance to the welfare of magicians will need no further demonstration. That is what we propose to show.

We feel sure that much of the plagiarism, too common among magicians, is due to the fact that writers upon magical topics have usually given but little incentive to original effort. Instead of putting forward stimulating suggestions, the rule has been to deal only with bald statements and descriptions which, apart from higher knowledge, can only foster a spirit of servile imitation. In the unwarrantable glorification of "how it is done," the far more worthy consideration of "how to do what has not yet been done" seems to have been almost entirely forgotten. The beaten track, and that only in disconnected sections, is what the student of magic apparently is expected to regard as his sole field of investigation. The need for seeking new paths, or even for tracing the connection between familiar sections of the old track, is an idea of which one seldom if ever receives a hint. To some extent, at any rate, we hope to remedy this very prevalent fault. By indicating sources of inspiration available to all, and pointing out systematic methods of working, we may possibly aid original effort on the part of some who have hitherto been content to snatch at crumbs, so to speak, from the tables of other men.

In the first place, then, we must define what constitutes an invention, magical or otherwise. This is extremely necessary, because so many people have but vague ideas upon the subject. Some do not realize the difference between an invention and a discovery. Others do not even realize the difference between an invention and an idea. Yet it should be obvious to all that an invention must necessarily be an example of applied science. Therefore, even the newest discovery or the newest idea cannot be regarded as an invention. It is only when the discovery has been embodied in some particular device, or the idea has been worked out in some practical form, that we have an invention. And even then the invention relates to the particular construction or method involved, and not necessarily to the discovery or the idea upon which the invention has been based.

For example, let us take the case of the steam-engine. It is commonly said that this invention was made by James Watt. But, was it? Certainly not! Hero of Alexandria constructed a steam-engine two thousand years before Watt's invention was made. Must we then, ascribe to Hero the invention of the steam-engine? By no means. His invention and the nineteenth century steam-engine are as unlike as chalk and cheese. The simple fact is that nobody invented the steam-engine, but various persons have invented various kinds of steam-engines. Among those persons, James Watt takes a prominent place as the inventor of that form of engine in which the pressure of steam is utilized by means of cylinder and piston. Thus, the use of steam pressure as a source of energy is a general principle, to which nobody can lay claim. It is an obvious application of the discovery that steam can produce pressure. The utilization of a reciprocating piston, as a means for converting the molecular energy of steam into mechanical or kinetic energy, is a specific principle, with the development of which James Watt must for all time be associated. Hero's invention was based upon another specific principle, differing entirely from that of Watt, viz:--the reaction, upon a movable arm, of steam escaping at right angles to it. It is the same form of -reaction that causes a sky rocket to ascend, and which, as derived from water pressure, was utilized in the invention known as Barker's Mill. The converse principle, that of producing motion by the direct action of escaping steam instead of by its reaction, has been adopted by Parsons in the invention of his admirably efficient steam-turbine.

From the foregoing instances, most of which must be entirely familiar to the majority of our readers, the true nature of an invention may readily be deduced. For example, it is entirely wrong to say that the steam-engine was ever invented at all. "The steam-engine" implies and comprises all steam-engines; or, at any rate, a common basis which all inventors of such engines have utilized. There is only one such basis-that of steam-pressure. The use of steam-pressure as a means for supplying power, however, is an idea which must inevitably occur to anyone knowing that steam can produce pressure. Left undeveloped, that idea would remain a mere idea, and nothing more. In any event, it could not rep-resent an invention. When that obvious idea had been developed by the invention of a steam-engine, it became a general principle to which all possible forms of steam-engines are referable. In like manner, the specific principles evolved by successive inventors must each represent a particular basis upon which subsequent inventors might found new inventions. Thus, the cylinder and piston principle of Watt was applied by Stephenson to land locomotives, and by Fulton (though his claim to priority is contested) to the propulsion of vessels. Yet we cannot say that Stephenson invented the locomotive engine, or Fulton the steamship. All we can say, with truth, is that Stephenson invented a locomotive and Fulton a steamship. The application of the specific principle, originated by Watt, to the propulsion of vehicles, either on land or on water, is a mere idea which any booby might conceive. And any booby, having conceived that idea, would believe that he had made an invention. So far, then, we have arrived at the following definitions: A General Principle is a basis for classification of inventions in definite groups, according to fundamental characteristics common to each group respectively.

A Specific Principle is a basis for invention, and may itself constitute an invention.

An Invention consists in the production of some novelty, in either principle, construction method, or purpose, not merely put forward as a vague idea but worked out in practicable form. The novelty it comprises, but that novelty alone, can be protected by patent.

An Idea is a conception, which may or may not turn out to be practicable or valuable, but which has not been developed by embodiment in an invention. It cannot be protected by patent because it discloses no inventive achievement, no practical application of a specific principle; and, therefore, is not an invention. It is simply a suggestion or notion, which some inventor might perhaps think worthy of development. But until that inventor's work has been done, the idea itself must remain but a suggested possibility-at the best a problem which, in the end, may prove to be not worth the trouble of solving.

Having these definitions for our guidance, we may justly believe that we stand on safe ground. Since an invention essentially comprises some definite element of novelty, not merely in conception, but in the practical application of a specific principle, it is quite easy to indicate certain sources from which inventions may be derived. The common impression that inventive genius necessarily consists in a faculty for conceiving new ideas, is quite erroneous. It depends primarily upon a faculty for exercising the imagination upon possible combinations hitherto unknown. The man who possesses the latter faculty, by accident of birth, is a born inventor. But inventors are not necessarily born. They can also be made. What has been withheld by nature may to a great extent be supplied by training. The man who wants to invent, but does not know how to invent, can learn to invent if he will but take the trouble. There are few men who need despair of becoming inventors. So long as a man has sufficient imagination to form some idea of what would be the immediate result, for example, if it were known for certain that the world would come to an end tomorrow, or if the whole of mankind suddenly turned vegetarian, he has an inventor's chief qualification. The man who has no imagination cannot expect to gain the power of foreseeing possibilities and anticipating results, without which no invention can be made.

In the training of an inventor, then, the first essential is the cultivation of that most valuable of all mental gifts--imagination. There is a very common notion that time spent in imagining things must be time wasted. Yet the actual fact is that the most successful men are those who are able to imagine things not yet in existence, and the means for bringing those things about. Such men are not dreamers; they are men of imagination. Between the two classes there is a vast difference. The dreamer is one who dallies with mental images-with hazy visions of what might be, if only somebody else would do something or other. The man of imagination, on the other hand, is one who exercises his brains upon problems relating to work which he himself intends to carry through, when those problems have been mentally solved. That is the kind of imagination an inventor wants.

The faculty next in importance to that of imagination is the power of observation. It is undoubtedly true that inspirations seldom come to those who do not look for them. Equally true is it that there is little use in looking for inspiration unless one knows where and how to look. Therefore, it is necessary that an inventor's power of observation be well trained-not only in looking out for inspirations, but also in recognizing the channels through which inspiration may possibly come.

One of the most extraordinary facts concerning invention in general is the evolution of conceptions in unbroken sequence. The inventor begins working out a certain problem he has conceived; and, as he proceeds, there grow out of his work suggestions which may lead to many new inventions. Each of these, again, may lead to further inspirations; and so on indefinitely. As a general rule, inventions are not derived from accidental ideas, happy thoughts, or heaven-born revelations. Their origin is in the fact that inventors are always on the lookout for sources of inspiration, and always endeavoring to imagine novel combinations and novel applications of familiar devices. When in the course of his work an inventor finds some detail lacking, which known devices or methods cannot supply, he is led to seek out in imagination a new device or a new method--it may be even a new principle--that will fulfil his requirements. Having a definite aim in view, and the ability to imagine possible means for achieving that aim, the chances are a hundred to one that he will find what he wants. Thus, an inventor's work consists, not in a happy-go-lucky waiting for inspiration, but in laborious effort devoted to the building up, mainly from fragments of existing knowledge, of complete structures which possess the element of novelty, in some form or other. It is for this reason that the art of invention is capable of being taught; or rather, learned. Although there is much to be learned, very little instruction can be given. That little, however, is the small key which opens a very big door.

In the present instance, what we have to do is to point out to the would-be inventor of magical novelties, where to seek for inspiration, and how to make use of it when obtained; always provided, of course, that the aspirant to inventive ability has learned to use his eyes and to exercise his imagination. Of course, the man who has a native talent for invention is bound to be more successful than one who has not that advantage. That goes without saying. Nevertheless, a wide field exists for the work of those who, without special gifts, are willing to do their best toward inventing things for themselves.

In magic, as in all other directions, the chief source from which inventors derive their inspirations is the work already done. But this is where one wants to know where and how to search. It is absolutely useless to read magical works, or inspect magical devices, and then confine one's attention to what has been read or seen. One must not look at just what is directly in view; one must look all round it, above it, and beyond it. One must not look at each invention singly, just for the sake of admiring or copying it. One must seek for what may be got out of it, put into it, or suggested by it. In almost every case there will be found something that may prove useful, if not immediately, then at some future time.

The most desirable discovery, of course, is a new specific principle.

That is, therefore, the first thing for which one should be on the lookout. Next to that comes the suggestion of a novel combination of details, or a novel application for existing devices or principles. After having conceived a basis upon which some novel invention may be produced, the real work of an inventor begins. So, at the outset, it is advisable to attempt something not too elaborate. In this respect, at all times, an inventor must be guided by a knowledge of the facilities he has for doing the necessary work of design and construction, or of getting it done by others. And, further, it must be remembered that such work, to the uninitiated, usually seems a lot easier to do than they will find it if they try to do it themselves. Still, if it is worth doing, a man of energy will always find means for putting it through.

Since an ounce of practice is worth a pound of theory, according to the proverb, we cannot do better than to show that an ounce of theory can be made worth many pounds in practice. For this purpose we propose to invent a magical novelty, for the reader's benefit; and to describe, step by step, the process of its evolution. Having done so, we will, further, point out such possibilities of future development as may be suggested by the invention as it stands. At the same time, we give our word of honor that the invention shall have been solved precisely in the manner described; and shall not be one already existing, that has been dissected and analyzed for the purpose of making up a story.

In order to begin at the most elementary condition possible, we take for our starting point a general principle; preferably, one that is not commonly employed. We shall select that of trigger-action by an electro-magnet, and see what can be done with it. To this end, of course, our first aim must be to ascertain, so far as possible, what has already been done upon the principle we have adopted. According to our present knowledge, it would appear that there is but one specific principle upon which magical apparatus embodying an electro-magnetic trigger has ever been constructed. That is the principle of concealing, within the appliance containing mechanism controlled by trigger, an electro-magnet to which the current is conveyed through suspending wires. Such being the case, we must get away from that principle if possible. The most obvious way of so doing is to put the magnet somewhere outside the apparatus containing the trigger mechanism, and do away with the suspending wires.

Fig. 1

Here we arrive at two perfectly definite conclusions. Since the magnet must be outside the appliance containing the trigger, we must devise some means for effectually concealing or disguising the magnet; at the same time, bringing it sufficiently near the trigger it has to operate. And since hanging supports must be discarded, the trigger apparatus must stand on a table of some kind. Electricity being our motive power, the best form of table to use will be one through which electricity will not pass, and in which electrical conductors cannot be concealed. At once, we recall to mind the glass-topped tables commonly used by magicians, The very thing! The central screw which fastens the glass top to its supporting pillar may form one pole of an electromagnet concealed within that pillar. And if the hollow head of the pillar is made of iron, it will form the second pole of the magnet it contains. We thus obtain a "concentric" electromagnet most efficiently disguised, and brought within effective range of anything standing upon the table-top. Fig. 1 will serve to show the actual construction of this device.

Fig. 2

The next consideration will be the means of exciting the electromagnet from without. The most convenient connection, of course, is through the feet of the table. The tripod and pillar, being of metal, will provide one of the conductors; the other may readily be made by passing an insulated wire down the hollow stem, and thence (in a groove on the under side of one of the legs) to an insulated metal stud fixed into the foot. With this method, one end of the bobbin wire would be connected to the metal tube, and the other end to the wire passing down within it. Two metal discs on the floor, apparently carpet pins, would form the terminal ends of the battery circuit. Upon one of these would stand the insulated stud, and upon the other would be placed either of the solid feet of the tripod. Fig. 2 shows the method of fixing the insulated block, with a metal stud connected to the inner wire which, in Fig. 1, is seen passing down from the bobbin.

Fig. 3

Fig. 3 shows the complete arrangement, with battery and operating key represented diagrammatically. In Fig. 1 is indicated approximately the position in which a catch or detent should be placed for operating by the concealed electro-magnet.

Fig. 4 is a plan of the table-top. The central screw, marked a, is the inner pole of the magnet, and the annular ring b is the outer pole.

Fig. 5 shows the best way of applying the arrangement to the release of clockwork or other source of energy within a case of any kind. Needless to say, the parts concerned in conveying magnetic force between the two poles should be of iron, and should form the shortest magnetic path. For this reason the metal disc which forms the upper cheek of the bobbin should not be nickeled. Otherwise, nickel being a magnetic metal, a coating upon the disc which fills in the mouth of the magnet would tend to form an alternative path of their magnetism, and thus minimize the attraction of anything outside.

Fig. 4	Fig. 5	Fig. 6

Having reached this point, we can imagine some magicians saying that they do not see much in the device above described. It is all very well, in its way, but what can one do with it? To this we answer that one may do with it so many things that it is impossible to foresee more than a minute fraction of the number. This is a question which involves one of the most important points we have in view, the insistence upon which is one of our chief objects in writing this book.

The common tendency among magicians is to appreciate only those devices in which some practical application has been cut and dried; which have been definitely embodied in the production of some particular effect. When every detail has been worked out, when the stage business has been organized, the manipulation arranged and the effect obtained, then only is a device worthy of consideration. The possibilities associated with a device, the purposes to which it may be applied, the money to be made out of it by the exercise of thought and initiative, are passed over as of no account. So long as the device has not been actually used in connection with some successful production, it has no value in the eyes of far too many among those who practise magic, either professionally or as amateurs. This tendency we most earnestly wish to combat; for it is the chief obstacle to be removed before magic can take its proper place in the world's progress. So long as an appreciable contingent of magical performers remain content merely to buy, beg, borrow, or steal from others--to do nothing beyond that which others have done, to aim at nothing higher than a slavish imitation of original work, to have no use for anything that does not come to hand complete, lock, stock and barrel--so long will magic remain condemned to unmerited disrepute.

The little invention we have described will show how small is the need for reliance upon other people, in obtaining novelties. In the whole description there is not included one single detail that is new, in actual fact. Yet, taken as a whole, it constitutes a novel method, capable of being patented. Not only so, it comprises a specific principle that is quite new and may be made the basis of many further inventions. Nevertheless, it has been arrived at by no stroke of genius, but merely by the putting of this and that together, in connection with a general principle selected haphazardly. It is an example of the facility with which inventions may be made, by systematic use of the advantages gained by studying the theory of a subject, instead of blindly trusting to luck for possible inspiration. If, instead of waiting for something to turn up, one looks around upon what already exists, to note the directions in which there appears some promise of useful development, the aid of theoretical knowledge will always render the creation of novelties a matter of no great difficulty. So vast an amount of knowledge and so manifold an array of inventions are already common property, that one need only ring the changes upon existing combinations, to produce something novel in one sense or another.

There is also another point worth considering and one to which we do not remember any reference being made in works dealing with magic. It is this. The work of originating an invention is, by far, the most pleasant and least laborious of all that has to be done in the course of its evolution. The work inseparable from the perfecting of minor details is the most tedious and the most trying. Thus the man who invents something original has compensations of no mean order, which are denied to one who merely takes up the threads, woven by another man, at the point where all originality ceases. It follows that, since the man who appropriates a magical invention has still to do all the detail work connected with it, he would be far more agreeably and profitably employed had he taken the little extra trouble required for bringing out something of his own creation.

Returning to our present invention, it is obviously capable of being adapted to two general purposes. One is the operation of a detent, or trigger device, the other is the direct production of movement. In the latter case, of course, the range of movement must not be greater than the magnetic attraction will bridge with certainty. These two purposes, it will be seen, relate to a wide range of existing effects in magic, and will yet relate to a far wider range in the magical inventions of years to come. Although it is impossible here to deal with this side of the question in any adequate manner, we shall just glance at one or two applications of the principle, and point out one or two ideas which those applications suggest.

Among well-known trigger devices, the "Crystal Casket" of Robert-Houdin naturally occurs to mind. The reader will remember that this casket was a small box, rectangular in shape, having glass sides, bottom and lid, mounted in a framework of metal. In the center of the lid was an ornament of embossed metal, sufficiently large to conceal a few coins. The inner plate of this ornament formed a cover for the coins, holding them in place and being secured with a piece of thread. The latter was in contact with a fine wire, which became red hot when a current of electricity was passed through it. Thus, at the proper moment, the coins were released, and allowed to fall upon the glass below. In an apparatus of this kind, if placed upon the table above described instead of being hung upon wires, a simple catch could replace the burnt thread. Probably more effective would be a device loaded into (say) a borrowed hat standing upon the table. Then the coins would be heard to fall upon the table itself.

In the case of an appliance with glass sides and metal edges, such as Robert-Houdin's casket, it might be possible to utilize the familiar "split coins," folding them up within the metal framework. The glass would then be absolutely free from opaque excrescences, behind or within which the coins could be hidden from view. A florin, when cut into four strips, would require a cavity only five-sixteenths of an inch in width. This might readily be provided within the metal framing of a small glass box. A simple flap, magnetically released, would be all the mechanism required for securing the coins until the moment of their production.

In connection with the second class of applications (where the magnet, instead of controlling a release, produces direct and visible motion), an example is illustrated in Fig. 6. That figure shows an adaptation of the present invention to de Kolta's tapping hand. It will be seen that the only addition to the hand itself consists in a thin strip of iron concealed within the wrist. The lower end of the strip is placed in proximity to the outer pole of the magnet, while its other extremity stands above the central screw which forms the inner magnetic pole. The attraction between the center screw and the iron strip, which will occur whenever a current flows through the bobbin wire, draws down the wrist and tilts up the fingers of the hand. On interrupting the current, the magnet ceases to act, and the fingers fall again upon the table-top. A small glass bead or other hard substance, attached to the middle finger, will give the required "tap," readily heard in all parts of a large theater. So long as the object to be moved can be made light enough, the possible amplitude of motion, obtainable by systems of leverage, may be comparatively large. For example, it would be quite practicable, given plenty of current, to produce an effect such as "The Rising Cards," by direct movement from the table magnet. Or, again, it might be practicable to load on to an article standing upon the table a card or other flat object lying unobserved upon the table-top.

Another idea suggested by this device is the use of a steel magnet in place of the iron armature. In that case, two different movements could be made to occur at will, in accordance with the direction of the current passing through the magnet-bobbin. Thus, when the poles of the table magnet are given the same sign as those of the permanent magnet nearest to them, the latter will be repelled. Reversing the current, of course, reverses the polarity of the electro-magnet, and then the permanent magnet is attracted. In this way, two distinct motions may be finally produced, two distinct trigger actions released, or two distinct motive powers controlled.

This magnetic form of control has an advantage that no possible device of a mechanical nature can possess. It enables one to produce effects such as those we have just mentioned, in an absolutely clean manner, even under a stranger's very eyes. This in itself is no small matter, seeing how much depends, very often, upon the impression a performer can make upon "the man from the audience." When in addition the method involves nothing likely to arouse suspicion, and also reduces risk of detection to a minimum, there is good reason for believing that it is a good thing, well worth turning to account.

Before concluding this section of our book, we would once again impress upon magicians of repute, and also upon aspirants to that rank, the need that exists for original work. No doubt it is very interesting to reproduce effects that other men have originated, to practise manipulations that other men have introduced-in short, to do clever or effective things with which other men have achieved success. But looking at the matter fairly and squarely, it becomes evident that achievements of that subordinate character are of no very great account. So far as personal merit is concerned, second-hand magic at the best cannot do more than show a performer's ability to repeat a lesson he has learned. With regard to the art of magic and its progress, such work can have but little value indeed. Those who are constantly looking out for novelties to imitate should remember these facts. In truth, one had far better take up old inventions, which give no chance for imitating any living artist, than to stand confessed a second-rate performer who can do nothing unless dry-nursed by abler men. Not only so, it is most likely that nine spectators out of ten will assume that the new but second-hand productions have been appropriated illegitimately: in other words, have been stolen from the original inventors. That kind of practice can do but little good to the performer himself, and is bound to do great harm to his calling. People can have but small respect for a profession in which the chief aim of its members, as a rule, is to acquire other men's ideas, instead of being to emulate the success of other men, while avoiding the blind imitation of things already done.

There is only one course of action by which the art of magic can be advanced and the repute of the magical profession enhanced. That is, for each one of us to put his shoulder to the wheel, and do all he can toward pushing forward. It is beyond question that time and effort given to the mere imitation of another man's work can be nothing more than time and effort misspent, in going over old ground; whereas, by striving to break new ground, every step and every effort must be of some service to the art and to its followers alike. Not only so, it must be clear to everybody, either in the magical profession or out of it, that there is far more money in original work than in the unnecessary repetition of past history. Not that the average imitator considers his work unnecessary. On the contrary, he feels that, by scrambling after colorable imitations of all the latest novelties, he is "keeping up to date." That is a curious fallacy, since, beyond all question, the man who works on those lines must always arrive a day after the fair. He can never be up to date, because he perpetually lags behind, waiting his chance to follow in the wake of somebody else.

The simple fact is that to condemn oneself to an arduous struggle for existence and a second-rate position at the best, when better fortune lies within reach, can only be described as sheer folly. To the man who will arouse his mind to some sense of initiative and will open his eyes to facts that stare him in the face, the doing of original work in magic requires scarcely more effort than would be necessary in imitating work already done. We do not question the fact that some men, more than others, have the faculty for conceiving new ideas. That is so in every calling that gives men a chance of using their brains. In every kind of work, mental or physical, there are bound to be degrees of skill, higher and lower, to which various workers respectively attain. In no case can all be equally skilful. Even the road-sweeper, who displays a positive genius for scavenging the open roadway, may prove incompetent when confronted with the task of clearing the gutters.

In magic, as in all other forms of human activity, it cannot be expected that all workers will have an equal facility in carrying out the work that lies before them. At the same time, it may be expected, with justice, that every individual magician shall add his contribution to the sum of magical achievement, according to the talents with which he has been endowed by nature. That is all we have a right to expect; but it is the least he has a right to give, in exchange for the value he receives from others. The man who is absolutely incapable of original work in magic is unfitted for practising the art, and should seek for a more appropriate calling. The man who could but will not do such work, should be sent to Coventry by all magicians who have self-respect, and, therefore respect their profession.

In magic, as in all else, the greatest aid to success is a complete understanding of the subject, so far as available knowledge extends. In any technical subject, such as magic, a complete understanding cannot possibly be possessed by anyone who lacks theoretical knowledge. Unless the theory-the inner constitution of a technical subject -is known, no man, however well qualified otherwise, can realize the present state of knowledge, or plan his future course with any confidence beyond that due to blissful ignorance. The theory of magic, as such things go, is comparatively simple. It is, however, none the less important on that account. Its very simplicity renders a lack of knowledge the less excusable on the part of those who ought to possess it. And seeing how useful that knowledge becomes, when one is seeking for novel suggestions and inspirations, the magician who neglects this branch of his subject must be accounted blind to his own interests, to say no more than that.

Previous | Next | Contents